December Song
by Mussimm
Summary: It didn't happen in slow motion, she didn't even have time to register one pain before the next came. It was just one whirl of pain and light and colour until it finally rested on blackness. Arthur/Gwen AU from Sweet Dreams
1. Chapter 1

Gwen sat at the top of the stone stairs, not far from Morgana's chamber. She wiped her forehead, slick with sweat. Her legs felt weak and she prayed for just a few minute's silence. It wasn't usual for her to avoid work, she prided herself on the standard of care she provided, but today was a little different. She was coming down with something, she would swear to it. Her whole body ached, chills wracked her, she even had to duck out of sight for a few minutes earlier for fear that she'd vomit.

"Gwen!"

She sighed, today of all days, no one would leave her alone.

"Yes, my Lady?" She asked, standing up and brushing off her skirt.

"Have you fetched my dress for tonight? It's nearly time to prepare for the feast." Morgana wasn't nagging, she was never rude to her handmaiden.

"I was just heading to the laundry to fetch it now, my Lady, I'll return shortly."

"You're looking a little peeked, Gwen, are you quite well?"

"Yes, I feel very well," Gwen lied.

"Don't let anyone waylay you into more chores on your way, I know how you are." Morgana's voice followed her down the stairs.

Stairs, why did the palace have so many stairs? Her knees ached with the effort of climbing down, she wasn't sure how she was supposed to make it back up. The laundry was on the other side of the palace, and with each passing step she had to work harder to keep her composure. The worst was that when she was finished, she would still have to attend Morgana at the feast, which was sure to last well into the night.

The halls were busy with servants, preparing for the evening, attending to their masters and mistresses. King Olaf and his honour guard had arrived not long ago and once they were settled in the festivities would begin. At least there was a hunt planned for the morning, which wouldn't require her presence, maybe she could get someone to cover her duties for the morning and try to sleep off this bug. Not likely, her mistress' nightmares had been particularly vivid lately.

The smell of cold stone only exacerbated the headache growing behind her eyes, and every footstep echoed in her ears. Every voice carried down the hallways, it felt like she was surrounded with people although there was plenty of room to move. This sickness was intolerable, she wasn't the kind to get sick easily, and when she did it was very rarely this bad. What she wouldn't have given for five minutes, two minutes, _one_ _minute _to herself. Inside the palace it was impossible. If she was honest with herself, anywhere within the city limits it was impossible. It wasn't so much to begrudge people's dependence on her every now and then, was it?

Well, today it was too much. King Olaf's arrival was very important to Camelot, particularly after the... incident. Gwen praised her luck that the Lady Vivian was not accompanying them, still under strict house arrest and, as far as she knew, a love enchantment with Arthur. The memories stung, but she had become accustomed to forcing them out of her head, refusing to fret over what might have been if she'd let her affair with the prince progress any further than it had.

Not that her willpower mattered much when she felt miserable. Like when she was alone at night, or fretting over Morgana's nightmares. Or sick. Not that she was prone to pitying herself, but at times like this it was hard not to. Maybe relenting to Arthur wouldn't prove her immune to disease or loneliness, but it would have stopped the gnawing in her chest, and she would have had someone to go to when she felt like this. Him. She would have had him to go to, which was far better than anyone else.

After what seemed like an eternity of slogging through the palace she finally reached the laundry and located Morgana's favourite dress. The slinky maroon gown that exposed her shoulders and made her look like an ethereal goddess instead of a human being. Gwen didn't think any garment in the world would allow her to even hold a candle to her mistress in this dress, and that was a good thing, Olaf still needed a lot of sweet talking before he'd be entirely at ease with Camelot.

She draped the dress delicately across her arms, careful not to leave a single wrinkle or mark, and started the seemingly interminable trek back to her mistress, her mind filled with images of her standing next to Morgana, wondering exactly how enormous the gap in beauty was. What did Arthur see when he looked at them? Did he notice Morgana? They were supposed to marry, though Uther had long since discarded that idea, but did the prince find her beautiful? She had seen his looks pass right through the raven-haired beauty to her before.

Gwen was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she almost didn't see the king before colliding with him. She stopped so suddenly that her equilibrium was thrown out of balance and her shoulder collided with the stone wall. Gwen bit her cheek against the pain and offered the king a curtsey as best she could with arms full.

"Your highness," she greeted.

"Gwen, could I ask you to find my son for me? He seems to have disappeared again." The king seemed impatient and distracted. Gwen bit her lip again, this time to stifle a smile, it was just like Arthur to disappear for some reason or the other when he was expected.

"Of course, my Lord." She curtseyed again, cursing internally. Not only had she managed to disobey Morgana and get hooked into another duty, but her day was getting longer by the minute. The king's orders always came first, she couldn't delay, so she managed to waylay another servant, passing off Morgana's dress and the message that she would attend her at the feast. She still had chores to do, even assuming Arthur was not hiding out in some impossible place she wouldn't have time to help her Lady dress.

More than likely Merlin had whisked him off on some whimsical errand, or was forcing the crown prince to stand over him to supervise some chore he had done inadequately. Of course, the first place to look when searching for a detained Arthur was always the stables. Why did they have to be so far away? She felt by now that she was wading through waist high mud, her legs were so tired.

She made her way to the stables, just behind the palace, and sighed gratefully as she heard a familiar voice yelling impatiently. Sure enough Arthur was taking Merlin through the motions of saddling a horse as if he was a small, irritating child learning for the first time. Gwen paused a moment, the aching in her joints momentarily forgotten at the sight of her friends bickering. She used to hate the bully in Arthur, now she wasn't sure there was any part of him she didn't love. Like. She liked him. This wasn't love.

It took the two men a while to notice her standing there, smiling at them. Merlin smiled back, causing Arthur to look around. He gave her that heart-stopping look and her breath caught in her throat. How did her do that to her every single time? Maybe it was just the pain and longing in her own heart that she saw echoed in his face.

"My Lord," she curtseyed. "The king is looking for you, it is almost time for the feast."

"Of course, thank you, Guinevere."

She couldn't say anything else. Every time he said her name it made the blood rush to her face. She turned away, fighting the urge to press him against the stable walls and kiss him just like that day in the tent, just like her kiss had once made things right between them, even if it was just for a fleeting moment. There was no hope for that now.

"Guinevere." Arthur's voice stopped her.

"Yes?"

"Would you pick some roses for Morgana on your way back? She's been troubled lately, I think she'd appreciate them."

How was she supposed to say no to him? "Of course, my Lord."

Five minutes. She would have given anything for five minutes to herself. A wave of dizziness ran through her, but she managed to keep from stumbling until she was out of sight. Maybe it would be best to just let another servant attend to Morgana for the evening, she would be no good to anyone if she fainted. She'd just run up for the last load of dirty linen for the laundry and she'd excuse herself for the evening if Morgana was still there, she'd understand.

But first she had roses to collect.

- -

"What was that all about?"

Arthur pulled his overshirt on, trying to tune out Merlin's babbling. He had a lot to make up for to Olaf and he had to start by looking presentable. "What was what about?"

"Sending Gwen to get roses."

"Morgana needs some cheering up."

"Sure she does."

Of course Merlin would read too much into it, he always did when it came to Gwen. Not that he wasn't usually right, but Arthur wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. Surely the other knights didn't have to put up with constant jibes from their servants.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Arthur pulled his chainmail shirt over his head, trying not to get too dragged in, nothing pleased Merlin more than getting a rise out of him over Gwen.

"Nothing. Nothing. Just, you know, sending her to the other side of the palace on a totally inane errand seems a little strange."

"It's none of your business."

Merlin perked up. "Oh, so there is an ulterior motive?"

How did that ape always manage to turn his words against him? "No, there is no ulterior motive, and even if there was, I wouldn't need to explain it to you. Now help me with my cloak."

He stood still, letting his manservant arrange the voluminous red cloak around his shoulders. He could almost feel the smug grin radiating off Merlin, and seriously considered putting him in the stocks overnight. That wouldn't accomplish anything, he'd tried it before. There were times when confiding in his manservant seemed like such a good idea, and there were times when it was a very big mistake.

The crown settled on Arthur's head and he looked in the mirror. Presentable, considering the help he had. He swept from the room, not giving Merlin a chance to continue his line of questioning. _If_ there happened to be a reason for him getting Guinevere out of the main passages of the palace, then it certainly wasn't any of his business.

"Where are we going?" Merlin asked. "The feast is that way."

"Yes, I know my own palace, Merlin. We're meeting with Morgana and her escort."

"Her what?"

"Her escort."

"Since when does Morgana need an escort to a feast in her own palace aside from Gwen?"

As he'd been dreading, their walk along the mezzanine answered Merlin's question very quickly. Olaf's knights were already convening in the great hall. "Because Morgana requested his presence with her. I believe she is intending to surprise Guinevere."

"Is that Lancelot?" Merlin asked, unable to conceal the delight in his voice. Arthur scowled down at the approaching man.

"It seems that he rescued the Lady Vivian from a group of bandits while she was travelling some time back and Olaf granted him a knighthood."

"That's amazing! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I only just found out about it myself." Arthur tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He had no quarrel with Lancelot and was genuinely glad that his dreams were coming true. It was just his general proximity that was a problem.

"And would this have anything to do with you sending Gwen to the other end of the grounds?"

Arthur rounded on his servant. "Merlin, what have I told you about bringing this up?"

"That... you'll kill me?" Merlin asked with a tentative wince.

"That's it." Arthur agreed.

"Sire!" Lancelot's unmistakeable voice rang out. He quickly ascended the stairs, catching up to the other two men and bowing deeply.

"Lancelot," Arthur greeted with as much warmth as he could muster. "We shouldn't keep Morgana waiting."

He led the way, allowing the two friends to catch up without his interference. He just hoped that Guinevere was still out in the gardens gathering roses. She'd be furious with him once she figured it out, but she wouldn't say anything. She'd just avoid his eyes, silently fuming, curtsey and say _'My Lord'_. He had to admit that he was half hoping that this would get him one of her lectures.

He missed her lectures. Missed the awkward little smile when she realised she'd said too much and silently asked for his understanding. Missed the day after when she would try to pretend nothing had happened and fail miserably. Mostly he missed how incredibly hard she made him work for her approval. He always knew that when she gave him praise, she meant it.

Arthur kept checking around him as they walked, listening for her footsteps, hoping not to catch a glimpse of her on the way back to Morgana's chamber. Maybe he'd catch a whisper of her voice without that hardline formality in it. It was a fine line to walk between wishing she was there and praying she wasn't.

Everything inside him told him this was childish. If she did still have feelings for Lancelot then keeping her from being alone with him for one night wasn't going to make a difference, and would hurt her. But Arthur had more servants willing to tell him that he was a prat than any other noble. And tonight, he decided, he was a prat. She didn't want anything to do with him, but that didn't mean he had to concede defeat graciously, or at all, until she married someone else.

Married. The thought struck him ill, it felt like ice ran through his veins.

"Lancelot!" Morgana met them outside her chamber, both hands extended toward their new visitor, who took them and gracefully kissed her fingers. The chivalrous cad. "Or I should say Sir Lancelot now."

"Indeed, my Lady, it is a pleasure to see you again."

Arthur knew how to turn on charm like that, he'd done it plenty of times. The thing that irked him was that Lancelot was so _sincere_. He wasn't turning on the charm. He was just charming. Not that it was hard to be charming around Morgana in that dress, she knew full well what it did to any man in her line of sight.

He noted that the girl who stood behind Morgana was an unfamiliar face, just another one of the servants. Guinevere would give him such a scolding if she ever heard him say that out loud.

_No_, a voice in his chest said, _she wouldn't, not anymore._

He wasn't the only one to notice the missing member.

"Is Gwen not joining us tonight?" Lancelot asked, offering his arm to Morgana.

She took the offered arm and they started to make their way downstairs. "She should be with us soon, apparently Uther had something that needed tending to."

Merlin's snicker didn't go unnoticed by Arthur, who shot him a death glare. The young man instantly put on a straight face.

"That's a shame," said Lancelot. "I haven't seen her in a long time."

"Yes, it's rather unusual, she's always so punctual. I think she's been feeling a little under the weather today."

Merlin snickered again and this time Arthur's glare was more meaningful.

"Right," Merlin said. "I'll just go see if I can find out what's keeping her."

Arthur nodded his approval and Merlin raced off toward the gardens.

- -

Roses. Gwen huffed, arranging the flowers in a vase. It was Merlin's job to cater to Arthur's whims, not hers. She was late enough already, there was no way she could avoid the feast now, there was no time to find someone to replace her.

She held her forehead, leaning against the wall. The dizzy spells were coming a little more often now, she'd have to be careful not to lose her footing and embarrass the royal family. She was, after all, 'Camelot's finest'. She barked out a laugh at the memory before the pain of what followed made her choke.

Just one more chore and she could join Morgana at the feast, spending the night doing her best impression of a wine dispensing statue. It wouldn't be so terrible. She piled up a wicker basket with linen and clothing that her mistress had discarded, using the weight as a centre of gravity to keep her balance.

One more trip down those stairs. She let out a long breath, mentally and physically preparing herself, then beginning the strange waddle of a woman holding a large weight and going downstairs. If Arthur were here he'd insist on carrying it for her, probably with one hand, or on his shoulder.

She caught her breath. He wasn't there. She had been the one to set the boundaries. No more thinking about it.

Gwen took another step, awkwardly balanced between stairs, and another dizzy spell hit. She tried to hold out a hand to balance herself against the wall, even if she dropped all the laundry, but found in that split second that her hand was caught in a sheet.

She just had enough time to realise that something very bad was about to happen and then she tumbled.

The stairs rushed up at her, slamming her bodyweight into her shoulder, then the ridge of one stair into her side, then her elbow, wicker breaking under the weight and piercing her skin. It didn't happen in slow motion, she didn't even have time to register one pain before the next came.

It was just one whirl of pain and light and colour until it finally rested on blackness.

- -


	2. Chapter 2

Morgana was woken early in the morning by a loud knocking on her door. A headache hung over her and she knew she'd had too much to drink the night before. She frowned at the insistent knocking that seemed to reverberate inside her skull. No one bashed on her door, she was Lady Morgana of Camelot, people were supposed to be polite, especially the night after a feast.

"Is that you, Gwen?"

"It's Merlin."

The note of urgency in his voice made her eyes snap open. He had disappeared before the feast and not returned, leading Arthur to besmirch his competency rather loudly. But something twigged in her brain at the sound of his panic. He had found Gwen.

"Come in," she ordered.

The young man that appeared around the door barely resembled her friend. His face was drawn, his hair ragged, clothes tattered and there were deep bags under his eyes. He looked like he'd been in a fight with a fierce beast.

"Merlin, have you slept at all? What happened? Where's Gwen?"

"No, I.. I found Gwen, Gaius and I had to be up all night with her."

"Tell me what has happened!" Morgana demanded, panic rising in her throat. She couldn't lose Gwen.

"She's going to be alright. She's come down with a serious disease, but Gaius has a cure, she should be back to normal in a few days."

"You're not telling me everything, if he has the cure, why were you up all night?"

"Just don't panic, okay?"

"Tell me!" Morgana heard the note of hysteria in her own voice, but didn't care.

Merlin swallowed hard and spoke quickly, trying to get everything out before she could interrupt. "She fell down the stairs. She's okay, though! It's nothing that won't heal."

"The others, where are they? Lancelot will want to know."

"They went out hunting while we were still working."

She didn't bother dressing, instead grabbing her travelling cloak to cover herself up and heading to the door without a pause. She was going to see Gwen _now_. "Take me to her."

- -

"_Uther Pendragon_!"

Arthur rolled his eyes, that banshee's wail could only come from one person and it meant his father was in big trouble. He was glad they hadn't been there in the morning, it would have been twice as bad if she was still hung over.

Morgana burst into the throne room, as beautiful as ever with that fire in her eyes that said she meant business. Her jaw was clenched tightly, eyes wide, fists balled. What had his father done this time? He hadn't seen her this angry since Gwen's father's death.

She was just lucky that they hadn't been holding conference with Olaf, although several knights including Lancelot were socialising with the knights of Camelot in the same room.

"Yes, Morgana?" Uther asked patiently, almost patronisingly.

"What do you have in mind giving Gwen additional duties when she is unwell? Are you trying to kill her?" Morgana raged.

"I doubt sending her to find the prince is going to do her any harm."

Arthur snickered, instantly realising his mistake as his sister's fury turned on him. "And you! _Roses?_ What are you playing at, Arthur? Could neither of you tell that she was ill?"

"Morgana, calm down," Uther said. "No harm has come of it, we'll be more mindful in the future."

"No harm?" she hissed. "She was so disoriented last night that she fell down the stairs outside my chamber. Gaius has taken all night to set her wounds!"

A chill ran through Arthur. He had noticed Guinevere's slightly pale complexion the day before but had thought nothing of it, now she was hurt. For a moment he thought of forgetting about his father's opinion and demanding to know how badly he was injured, but common sense won out.

Shame washed over him. If he hadn't been so set on keeping her away from Lancelot she might not have fallen. The very same man had now lost all colour, his face set in shock and fear. Arthur would have given anything for the privilege of showing his feelings that openly.

Uther opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur managed to get in first. "This is my fault, Morgana, please, take me to see her. I'll do everything I can to make amends."

He tried not to betray himself, standing up casually and leading Morgana from the room, knowing that Lancelot was right behind him. He didn't know how much Gwen had shared with her, but he didn't need to ask her to hurry, the three of them were almost running as soon as they were out of the room. The physician's rooms seemed like they were a thousand miles away.

Morgana led the way, a look that swore revenge all over her face, and Arthur had a feeling that her thoughts were on him. He didn't really care, he'd take whatever punishment she chose for him. He couldn't believe he'd been so stupid. When Gaius' door came into sight it was all he could do not to simply rip it off its hinges. Morgana knocked hurriedly.

After an interminable wait the door opened. Gaius looked up at the two white-faced knights and let out an exasperated sigh. "Morgana, I thought I told you not to go worrying people, Gwen is in no danger and no pain."

"Please, let us see her," Lancelot begged.

Gaius stepped aside with a look of resignation. Merlin was already there, using a mortar and pestle with a look of grim determination on his face. He looked as if he hadn't slept in two days, and had seen far too much in that time.

The other knight saw her first, instantly falling to his knees beside the cot that lay nestled below a window. Lancelot's hand found Guinevere's, his other stroking her forehead. Arthur didn't begrudge him that, because the moment he saw her, he was frozen to the spot.

_I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to her._

Guinevere's skin was a sickly yellow colour, covered in a sheen of sweat, her hair plastered to her face and neck. Her lips were a strange, dark colour. But that seemed to be the least of her problems.

The entire left side of her face was the deep, charcoal of horrible bruising that extended down her shoulder, the skin torn and raw. Just as bad were the bandages, below her face and that one shoulder there were nothing but bandages. He could see the distinctive shape of a tourniquet on one arm.

"How bad is it?" He had meant the question to be commanding, strong, an analytical question. Instead it came out a hoarse rasp.

"It looks far worse than it is, sire." Gaius gently guided him to sit at the table, though he couldn't tear his eyes from the patient. "I've seen the fever before, it will pass in a few days, although she will need longer than that to fully recover. Most of her wounds are superficial, the bruising will fade and her skin is only scraped. She received a few breaks in the fall, to the ribs and arm, but they are clean breaks, and will heal well."

"What can I do, Gaius?" Morgana asked, pacing nervously.

Gauis smiled. "Find her some good books to read, boredom is going to be her biggest problem while she's here. And stop worrying, my Lady, Gwen is in good hands."

The elderly physician's words were no comfort to Arthur. She was so still. The single flutter of movement, the only sign that she was alive, was the weak rise and fall of her chest. Gaius could say anything he wanted, she looked on the border of death. This was his fault. His own stupid, selfish fault.

"Is she in pain?" he asked.

"I've given her a draught strong enough to make a man twice her size comfortable for a week. I assure you, sire, as long as she is well tended to, she will be back to health in no time."

No pain, no danger. Why couldn't he breathe any easier? Maybe it was the injuries to her face, as if she'd been in a badly lost battle. Maybe it was the way Lancelot was so tenderly stroking her hand, planting kisses across her thumb. The jealousy and shame flared up in him and he just wanted to get away. He couldn't let Morgana and Gaius see him like this. He wasn't sure if he wanted to wreck everything in the room or simply burst into tears, neither reaction was befitting a prince. He should have been counting his blessings, if Gwen had broken her neck falling down the stairs she wouldn't have been the first.

And now he could do nothing. Gaius could say she was comfortable until he was blue in the face, he wouldn't believe that there was nothing he could do. He'd seen plenty of sick people before, and this didn't look like a simple fever. It carried a chilling resemblance to his men, wounded in battle, who suffered infection, their limbs amputated in the field. He had complete faith in the court physician, he'd trust him with his life, but Gwen's life was another matter.

"Gaius." Arthur pulled the old man aside, his voice low enough for the others not to hear. "This is my fault, tell me what I can do to aid her recovery."

The old man nodded, and Arthur saw in his eyes an understanding that his manner didn't betray. "Sire, all that can be done is being done. If it will assuage your guilt, she is likely to be stiff and sore when she wakes up, a more comfortable bed for her recovery would make the difference."

"She can have mine," he said without thinking. His tone caught the attention of the others in the room and Gaius' expression spoke volumes about the scandal such a thing would cause. Arthur coughed and tried to play off his reaction. "Morgana, Guinevere needs more comfortable quarters, will you volunteer yours?"

"But of course, I'll make the arrangements. Sir Lancelot, will you accompany me?"

"Of course." Lancelot squeezed Gwen's hand and escorted Morgana from the room.

Arthur was acutely aware of Gaius' presence in the room, so his steps were measured, unhurried, as he knelt at Gwen's side. He tried to make it seem as if he was inspecting her wounds as he trailed his fingertips across her face, tracing the bruises, running his thumb across her split lip. He tried not to make a sound although it felt like he was choking. He tried not to betray his heartbreak as her eyes refused to open.

He heard Merlin drawing Gaius' attention away, and blessed his manservant for his occasional discretion. Arthur took Gwen's hand, pressing his lips to her fingers, silently begging her to recover, to open her eyes and give him a tongue lashing worse than anyone else would dare. He wanted her expressive face alive again. The downcast eyes that said she'd overstepped a line, the shrug of her mouth that told him there was more she wanted to say, eyes that darkened with anger and lightened with sadness, the perfect frown that gave him hope that she hadn't given up on him. That tiny, shy smile when she felt awkward.

"Sire, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave the room, it's time for us to change her dressings."

Arthur paused, not wanting to let go of her hand, but eventually conceded and left the room.

- -

Gaius peeled back the blanket from Gwen's frail body, tossing it to one side, it was soaked in sweat and blood. He felt the pulse in her wrist and the strength of her breath before gesturing for his dogsbody.

Merlin sat on the edge of the cot, holding Gwen's body while Gaius unwrapped the bandages from around her torso. It felt more like holding a ragdoll, an effigy of Gwen rather than her actual person.

"You should have told them the truth," he said.

"To what end?" Gaius asked. "Those three are suffering a lot more than Gwen is right now."

"If she dies, they'll have a lot of questions for you. I don't think Arthur believes you, anyway."

"She's not going to die."

He dropped the bandages to one side and Merlin lay her back down on the cot. Another time he might have been uncomfortable seeing Gwen naked, but there was nothing sexual about the angry wound the ran between her breasts, blackened flesh that oozed blood and puss. He had spent most of the night trying to pick out every last shard of wicker from where she had fallen on the basket. The breaks in her ribs and arm had turned a deep purple, and he could almost see the imprint of each stair she had hit on the way down, running in blackened ridges across her body.

Merlin started scooping water into her mouth, the majority of it running down her chin but a precious few drops sliding down her throat. He tied not to look as his mentor cleaned the wound on her chest, each fluid wiped away almost immediately replaced.

"This infection could kill her, I should heal her."

"Don't be a fool, Merlin. Gwen's family has been accused of sorcery once too often, if she miraculously recovers now you'll only be saving her long enough to send her to the pyre."

"Her life is in danger."

Gaius sighed in frustration, looking up at his apprentice. He let the wash cloth fall into the basin of water. "Do you think I do not know that?"

"Then why aren't you letting them prepare for it?"

"This infection is the only major danger to her right now, and with the correct treatment she may well recover." He held up his hand as Merlin tried to interject, silencing him. "_However_, if Gwen does need to make a miraculous recovery, I would prefer it to not come as a surprise. We have to take suspicion off her."

Merlin nodded. The plan wasn't perfect, there were a lot of things that could go wrong. If she faded too fast for him to heal, if he couldn't find the right spell in time. The chance of Arthur being in the room was very, very high. He could barely believe that Arthur had agreed to leave the room in the first place. Despite their often grating relationship, Merlin couldn't help but pity the prince. He had seen the man's torment first hand, and now not only was Gwen injured, but Lancelot tended to her.

Gaius began winding fresh bandages around Gwen, slowly covering up the worst of her injuries. If it wasn't for the bruising on her face it might have been hard to tell she'd been in a fall, but her skin wouldn't lie. The last of the dressings were in place when she cried out.

Gwen's back arched, fighting against the two men restraining her. She moaned, her hands grasping for purchase she couldn't find. Her mouth opened, gasping for breath, she looked like she was suffocating.

"Gwen? Gwen!" Merlin wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trying to calm the fit.

The door burst open and Arthur was beside them, taking her from his arms, one arm supporting her and the other giving hold to her desperately searching hands. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, clutching, grasping, gasping for air. Her eyes were open, wild and delirious, like some unseen monster attacked her.

"Guinevere!" Arthur commanded, his hands tightening around her, trying to break her from her frenzy. Her back arched and her eyes met his for a moment before she slumped back against him, once again unconscious. The prince held the handmaiden against his chest, arms wrapped around her like she was the only thing keeping him anchored.

Merlin shot a glance at Gaius, and it was plain that the old physician was not blind to what was happening. The sorcerer wanted to pull Arthur back, to warn him that this wasn't appropriate, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb him. He'd watched Arthur torment himself for months, wishing for a private moment with Gwen, and it was ironic that he found it here.

"Gaius," Arthur rasped. "I thought you said she felt no pain."

"She doesn't, sire. I would have to examine her more closely to be sure, but it's possible that this was a hallucination brought on by the fever. It is only to be expected of a patient with this illness."

Arthur said nothing, still pressing Gwen to his chest, his lips ghosting over her forehead. Merlin looked away, it felt too intimate a moment to intrude upon. Gaius wouldn't tell Uther what was happening, he trusted the old man, but he wouldn't approve either. It felt like the odds were stacking against Arthur more every minute.

"Arthur," Merlin said. The prince didn't look up. "Arthur! Morgana and Lancelot will be back soon, we need to get her ready to move."

Arthur closed his eyes tightly for a split second, the subtext of Merlin's words obviously penetrating his daze, then released Gwen, letting her lie back on the cot. Gaius spread out a stretcher on the table and allowed the prince to scoop up his sleeping princess and lie her gently on the cloth. As if on cue the door opened again, Lancelot striding in, full of purpose.

"The Lady Morgana's chambers are ready, please let me help to move her."

Merlin watched the two men each take an end of the stretcher, the glare that passed between them was impossible to miss, like a silent truce until Gwen was safe. They carried Gwen from the room.

- -

If there was a force in Camelot that could take Morgana from Gwen's side, no one had found it yet. Merlin watched them from the doorway, the pale lady tending the small woman's fever, one hand wound around her own. The two women were inseparable when in good health, now they seemed to be joined almost as one person, Morgana had stayed up the entire night tending to her.

Lancelot was in no better shape. He had no task to keep him busy while Gwen suffered, and had taken to pacing the room, looking increasingly dishevelled and sleep deprived. It wasn't easy for Merlin to watch Gwen, sickly and unmoving aside from the occasional fit that would bring everyone in the room running, but he wasn't in love with her, and he wasn't sure who he pitied the most.

Gwen, because while she'd survive, her recovery would be long and painful. Morgana, watching her sister in this state, her efforts just keeping the woman alive but showing no signs of improvement. Maybe Lancelot, who watched just as attentively but could do nothing else. And Arthur, who had been forced to leave the night before, unable to neglect his duties to sit by a servant's sickbed.

"Merlin."

He'd been so lost in reverie that he didn't notice Lancelot approach him. The knight inclined his head, and Merlin moved out into the hallway, out of Morgana's earshot.

"Lancelot, how are you holding up?"

"Where is Prince Arthur?"

The question was laced with anger and caught Merlin completely by surprise. It sounded like this had been fermenting in Lancelot's mind for a while.

"He's on guard duty."

The knight's fingers wove through his hair, his whole body radiating frustration. "I thought he cared for Gwen."

"What? Of course he cares for her, but he can't just..." He let the statement hang in the air. "He's still the king's son."

"So he leaves her here while she's ill? I knew they would have difficulties, but I thought he would give her some kind of understanding."

Oh, no. This was not the time for this. Merlin couldn't lie. "Arthur is... not very hopeful."

"He intends to wait until he's king."

"Gwen wouldn't let him challenge Uther." Merlin tried to halt the rapidly darkening look on the knight's face.

"And if King Uther lives to old age? He'll let Gwen live an old maid, waiting for him?"

The sorcerer stumbled for words, unable to describe what was happening between Arthur and Gwen. Of course Arthur didn't want her to be unhappy, he didn't even think she'd wait for him, it hadn't really crossed Merlin's mind that he might be right. Gwen was Arthur's true love, breaking his enchantment with Lady Vivian had proved that.

He was torn. He was loyal to Arthur, and wouldn't pretend that losing Gwen would be easy. But Lancelot was brave and strong, with a good heart, and could make her happy. Merlin had no idea what Arthur planned to do if his father lived another twenty years, he'd assumed a lot about the relationship. If he really hadn't left Gwen with any kind of understanding, it wasn't fair on her.

All he knew was that if Gwen chose Lancelot over Arthur, it would kill him.

"I thought you didn't want to get in the way of those two."

"I thought there was something to get in the way of."

"Is there no persuading you that Arthur truly loves her?"

Lancelot glanced down, thinking. "If you think it's best for Gwen, I will not interfere."

Best for Gwen. The moment he said that, Merlin couldn't find the words to defend Arthur, he couldn't honestly say that this was best for Gwen. There were a lot of things he knew with certainty. Arthur would be king, a great king. Gwen was his true love. Magic would return to Camelot. Unfortunately he didn't know if those things would happen in time for Gwen to get her happy ending.

"I think... it should be Gwen's decision to make."

Lancelot nodded, his face set. Merlin wished he could tell what was going on in the other man's head. The thought had hung in the air ever since the jousting tournament that Arthur and Gwen might not be able to be together, it had never even crossed his mind that it would be because of her choice.

Their conversation was halted by footsteps in the corridor, Gaius and Arthur making their way to Morgana's chamber. Arthur's clothing was wrinkled and his hair dishevelled, as if he'd simply thrown his chainmail aside after guard duty and not bothered to recheck his appearance.

"Good afternoon," Gaius greeted. "How is the patient?"

"No change," Morgana answered, her voice dead. When was the last time she closed her eyes?

"Morgana, get some sleep." The physician commanded, silencing her objection. "You're no good to her in this state, at least rest for an hour or two."

The seer nodded, her lips pressed together in a frown that seemed etched onto her face. Her grief seemed to flow off her in waves and when she stood it was like a flood gate broke, she fled the room.

Gaius sat next to Gwen and beckoned Merlin over. He wiped her face, clearing some of the sweat. Merlin sat in such a way as to block her from the sight of the two knights as Gaius unwound the bandages. He gave an approving murmur at the progression of her wound, which was now mostly dry, and the stitched that had been so difficult to place were setting in the right position.

Merlin's attention was somewhat drawn from the patient by the low conversation happening behind them. He couldn't hear the words that Arthur and Lancelot exchanged, but the tone was unmistakeably hostile.

Gaius propped Gwen up, running the damp cloth down her back, trying to clean her as best he could in her prone state. Some of the less severe bruises were turning a yellow colour, looking more like purple marbling across her skin than the black lines they had the day before. It was an improvement, not much, but something.

"Her fever should break soon," Gaius said, wiping her forehead again. He began to rebind her chest, working quickly to keep the knights from seeing her chest wound. "I'll give her another sleeping draught to let her sleep through the night."

Merlin shuffled through the old man's bag, finding the potion for him and handing it over. Gaius carefully measured an amount into a spoon and held it over her lips.

"I'm concerned for Gwen, that's why!" Lancelot's sudden yell caused Gauis to jump, spilling the potion. Merlin turned his eyes to the two men, who visibly bristled, aggression all through their posture.

"Guinevere is being well taken care of, you can see that!" Arthur's voice was just as loud, his hands sweeping to indicate the physician at the bedside. It was clear they'd given up all pretence of a hushed argument.

"For how long? Until you're forced to marry? If you'll bend to the king's ruling on your wife, who is to say he will not choose for you?"

"I would never let that happen!"

Gaius cleared his throat pointedly, both men's heads whipping around to look at him. "If you must have this argument, please do not do it where you could disturb my patient."

"Who are you to tell me what to do in my own palace?"

Merlin winced. Arthur would regret saying that later, but it was hard to stop him being a prat when he was already angry. Gaius didn't react to the insult, instead he collected his bag, bowed to the prince and left the room without another word.

Arthur sighed, putting a hand to his forehead. He turned to Lancelot. "He's right, this discussion can be delayed."

The prince sat beside Gwen and Merlin gave him his space. Lancelot's face was still taut with anger, his breathing heavy.

- -

Arthur walked back to his chambers after a too short time with Guinevere. As if his mood wasn't foul enough, the argument with Lancelot had him furious. Guilt was piling up on him. Gwen's injuries, her loneliness, his enforced absence. Lancelot's words wouldn't have stung so much if they weren't true.

He shouldn't have yelled at Gaius, either, he had been completely right. He just wanted to be able to attend her sickbed, a privilege that would be granted to anyone in the kingdom except him, and the denial had him so frustrated that he couldn't think straight.

He rounded the corner, approaching his chamber when he saw two guards standing outside, cloth masks covering their mouth and nose. Arthur tensed.

"Sire." The guards bowed. "King Uther has been informed that you've been exposed to an infectious disease from Lady Morgana's maid. You're to be quarantined in your chambers for three days to ensure your health."

Arthur's mouth opened but no words would come out. Gaius. The old man hadn't been able to stop the argument, so he made sure it wouldn't start up again.

There was no point arguing, Uther's orders would stand.

Arthur walked into his chambers and slammed the door behind him.

- -


	3. Chapter 3

Pain. Pain was all she could feel, radiating all over her body. Her face, her jaw and cheekbone screamed. Her mouth opened but she couldn't draw in enough air to scream. She tried to move her arms, only to find agony shooting up into her shoulders. She could feel tears welling in her eyes although her chest had no strength to bring forth a sob.

Gwen opened her eyes, the world was a jumble of ash stone and ivory lace, her eyes wouldn't focus. A mewling sound escaped the back of her throat. What was going on? The breath finally escaped her lungs, a low hiss of pain. Why did her chest hurt so badly? It felt as though she'd been run through with a sword.

"Gwen!" A voice, hazy and indistinct, cut through her pain. "Gaius! Gwen's awake!"

There were hands on her, lifting her, opening her mouth while she still struggled to scream. Something glass was forced between her teeth and she felt a cool sludge trickle down her throat. She choked, coughed, tried to swallow, couldn't urge the liquid either way. Strong hands rubbed her back, trying to ease the convulsions.

"Gwen, can you hear me?"

_Why won't they kill me?_ She was yelling with her mind, begging for someone to end this agony. Her crushed face was so painful, it filled her whole world, turned her vision white. Why were they torturing her like this? None of the figures that drifted in and out of her vision showed any mercy.

Arms wrapped around her, pulling her close to a warm chest, cradling her head. There were reassurances whispered in her ear although she couldn't make out the words. She wanted to tell the man to stop, that the way her jaw rested against his collarbone only made the pain worse, but every word, every breath stuttered and fell in her throat. The only sound she could make were increasingly desperate moans.

"Come on, Gwen, breathe."

Every second the agony worsened, until the pain in her face spread throughout her entire body, her back arched involuntarily, spasms ripping through her limbs. How was she supposed to survive this? Were they trying to torture her to death?

Then, like a switch was flicked, the pain disappeared, replaced by warmth throughout her body and a pleasant, heavy feeling in her chest. Gwen gasped, filling her starving lungs with air, the relief falling over her, her body collapsing like a puppet with cut strings. She lay against the warm man, panting, trying to make sense of the world around her.

Slowly the world came into focus. The first thing she registered were Morgana's dark, concerned eyes, red and puffy, hovering near her face. She had been crying. Gaius stood above her, assessing, analysing, as if he expected the pain to return at any moment.

And the arms, she found his hands, wrapped around her waist. Coarse, worn hands of a commoner. Gwen looked up, almost instinctively knowing who held her.

"Lancelot?"

He smiled down at her, his beautiful face lit with pure joy. "Gwen, I feared you'd never wake."

He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. He was back. She had so many questions, but right then all she could comprehend was that he was there, arms around her, fingers entwined with hers. He was safe, no longer fighting for his life.

Suddenly she was pulled from his arms and into Morgana's. The woman held her like a sister, crushing her close. Gwen couldn't believe that the pain didn't return, her whole body felt nothing but warm and light. She returned the embrace, trying to comfort her mistress although she was still in shock.

"What happened?" Gwen asked as soon as she could extract herself.

"I'm afraid you took quite a tumble down the stairs," Gaius said. "Hopefully that tonic I gave you will keep the pain abated for some time."

Gwen laughed, then touched her fingers to her lips. Why was she laughing?

"I'm sorry, I..." She trailed off, distracted by the feel of Lancelot's hands, which had found hers again. She ran her fingertips across his knuckle, the feel of it was fascinating. She stopped her roving fingers, clasping her hands together. "I don't seem to be myself."

"It's the medicine," Gaius said. "It kills the pain, but I wouldn't recommend attempting any strenuous thinking."

Gwen laughed again, leaning back against her knight. Everything felt so comfortable, the hard chest behind her, the warm bed under her, the soft blankets that covered her. A drowsiness settled over her. Part of her disliked her lack of mental faculty, but a larger part was still reeling with relief from the pain.

"Where's Arthur?" The question seemed to spring from her lips without her prior knowledge, and she instantly realised how inappropriate it was. "Not that... he'd be here. I just thought because..."

"Arthur has been quarantined, to prevent the spread of the fever through the knights of Camelot." Morgana saved her from her awkwardness.

"He's ill as well?"

"No, Gaius simply thought it an appropriate precaution."

Gwen felt her eyes grow heavy, the drug overcoming her. Lancelot stroked her face, the rhythm lulling her deeper into weariness. She had feared so much for him after his departure, to see him safe, welcome once again in Camelot, there for her, was more calming than she could have imagined.

"Sleep, Gwen," he whispered in her ear. "I'll be here when you awake."

- -

How long had it been? Arthur sat against his headboard, staring at the wall. One day, he guessed, as it was almost sunset. 24 hours isolated from everyone but Merlin, who hadn't visited since lunch. 24 hours of not knowing Guinevere's condition. And if she'd woken up, 24 hours for her to fall in love with Lancelot all over again.

The favour she had given him before their first kiss was wound around his hand. It used to smell like her, soap, linen and coal, but he had spent so many long hours holding it close that now it only smelled of him. Now it was just a token, a ward against the pain that threatened. She had enforced the formality between them for six long months, but at least he knew at that time, she had cared for him. If the pretty blush that graced her face every time they spoke was any indication, she still did.

She was one of the bravest women he'd ever met, but at the same time so shy. He could sympathise. If he was asked to take on every knight in the kingdom he'd do it without hesitation, but the idea that soon he'd have to confront her, ask her if she had tired of waiting for him, had him so scared that his stomach tied in knots. He could still remember the look on Gwen's face when she smiled at Lancelot, holding his hand. He had thought that smile to be just for him, but he had been wrong. And he could still feel his heart breaking.

And now Lancelot had made it perfectly clear that he intended to court her. How could Arthur object? He had made his feelings to Gwen as transparent as he could, he wanted her to be his queen, and she had refused him. Given time, he was sure he could prove to her that there was no other for him, but suddenly his time had run out. Her old flame had come to claim her, there would be no objection to the match.

Arthur closed his eyes. Guinevere loved him. He was sure of it. The way she blushed and stuttered in his presence, the gentle sighs, the beautiful smiles, she hadn't given up on him. He just wasn't sure how to tell her that he was waiting for her, as well. She had apologised, in her own way, for doubting him before, but it was so hard to cling to that while they were separated.

Every second seemed like a torment he couldn't endure. He had waking nightmares, hearing the crack of bones and cold stone connecting with soft flesh. Copper skin jaundiced with fever. Her mouth opening in silent screams, some anguish he couldn't see or hear or fight.

The physician would pay for this. He'd pay for every second Arthur had been locked away from her.

Arthur grimaced. Truthfully he was to blame, he should have held his tongue. Guinevere would have given him a tongue lashing if she heard him speak to Gaius that way, the old man was right, her sickbed was not the place for an argument with Lancelot, even if _he_ had started it.

A knock at the door didn't even make Arthur look up.

Merlin placed a plate on the table, still he didn't look away. "Come on, now, you haven't eaten all day, you must be starving."

His manservant's face popped into his field of vision, his naturally dazed expression intact. He waved his hand in front of Arthur's face until he received a pointed glare. "I'm not hungry."

"Cheer up, I have good news. Gwen's awake."

"What?" Arthur sat forward. "When did she wake? How is her condition?"

Merlin shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "A couple of hours ago, she's fine, be better in no time."

"Merlin, you're a horrible liar," Arthur growled. He was in no mood for this. His manservant looked torn, as if afraid of his reaction to the truth.

"She's in pain. A lot of pain. But Gaius has given her a draught, she can't feel any of it right now. And the worst of the illness has passed, she's just a bit... well dizzy, kind of... phlegmy. Bit of a cough."

"How much pain?"

Merlin glanced at his feet. "Unbearable without Gaius' strongest potion."

Arthur closed his eyes, his chest constricting. "And Lancelot?"

"Gaius just sent him and Morgana out for the night so she could get some sleep."

"He's been tending to her all day." It wasn't a question.

"Yes." Merlin watched him, as if searching his face for a sign of distress. "Are you okay?"

"What do you think?" Arthur muttered. "I'm living a double nightmare. Guinevere's going to be taken away from me, either by sickness or by... by..."

"You don't know that. She loves you."

"What does it matter?" Arthur slammed his fist against the wall, not feeling the pain. "I can offer her nothing. Lancelot is right, I'm not thinking of her, I'm thinking of myself."

"She wants the same thing."

"For how long?" Arthur shut his eyes, trying to will the words' truth away. "Soon she will realise that he can comfort her when I cannot. He can sit beside her while she's ill, run to her side when she's injured. He can give her a husband, a family. Not some distant hope."

"Then make it more than that! Tell your father, his punishment may be harsh, but there's only so much he can do."

Arthur laughed without humour. "Yes, like making Gwen disappear, never to be seen again. Or maybe he'll take the direct approach and simply have her burned at the stake for enchanting me."

"You think he'd kill her?"

"If he thought I'd truly marry her." Arthur scowled, this was too much to deal with all at once. For now he just wanted to see her alright. "Just... get me out of here."

"How am I supposed to do that?"

"Come up with something!"

Arthur didn't want to ask any questions, but he knew that when he said that to Merlin, it was as good as done. The boy nodded and left the room. Sometimes plausible deniability was the best option.

He paced, waiting for the telltale sound the the lock on his door opening, telling him that his manservant had succeeded, but the time seemed to pass in aeons. He felt as if he should have been able to hear her scream from the pain, like his absence in such a moment was unforgivable. He should have been able to hold her, help Gaius administer the draught. He could have told her that it would be alright, stroked her hair and face, done something to soothe the pain.

There was nothing to be done, he could spent the rest of his life here going over his regrets. It was more important to take action, try to salvage what he could. He had to stay strong if he was to survive the coming weeks, and he had to have faith that Gwen would make the right decision. Not that he was completely sure what that was. The decision he wanted her to make wasn't necessarily one he could live with, in time.

A tap on his window made the prince jump. He opened the glass pained window outward to see Merlin's grinning face.

"What are you doing?"

"You wanted out." Merlin wheezed with the effort of holding onto the rope that kept him suspended outside the window. Arthur looked up, he had tied the rope to the highest battlement, granting him precarious access to the entire south face of the palace.

"I didn't know you were fond of spelunking."

"Can we crack jokes when I'm not hanging off the side of a castle? Morgana's chamber is up one floor and to the left. I'll be going now."

Arthur gave his manservant a nod before he slipped out of sight, down the rope. Arthur smiled, only Merlin could concoct this solution. Only he could turn heading up to Morgana's chamber into a daring expedition.

The prince leaned out the window, letting his full weight settle onto the rope, which was disturbingly lightweight. Each handful he grabbed felt like it might snap the rope, letting him plummet to the ground. It wouldn't kill him, but he had the feeling Gaius would have him confined to his chamber for a month when he was finished setting broken bones and healing bruises.

Gwen's window was clearly in his view and he felt weightless. He could have climbed a mile if it meant getting to her side. As he came level with her window he swung his weight outward, letting him scale sidewards. Morgana's decadent bay windows were too large to miss, and he slid one pane open, allowing him to slip inside.

The bed was laid out, ever familiar, in Morgana's ivory bedspread. A bunch of flowers graced the bedside, candles blew in the breeze. The smell of some kind of fragrant oil wafted through the air, permeating the hangings and trappings. It all seemed so superfluous, too frivolous for the simple beauty that lay at its centre. Arthur leaned against the bedpost, watching her. She'd look so beautiful with ribbons in her hair.

She still looked unwell, but there was a marked improvement from the last time he'd seen her. Her skin was pale, but the fever that had taken her seemed to have abated. The bruises around her face were fading. Gaius had been right, she was recovering, if slowly. It still stopped his heart to see her like this.

Arthur sat at the bedside, taking one of Gwen's hands in his own. He remembered the last time this had happened, the positions had been reversed, her words of faith and courage penetrating his deep sleep.

He had no such words to offer her, everything was uncertain.

"I don't know if I'm worthy of you," he murmured against her hand. "Lancelot wants you for his own, and I don't know how I'm supposed to ask anything else of you. I can offer you no promise, except that my heart will be yours for as I long as I live, and I wish that was enough."

He sighed. He wasn't the type to pour his heart out to someone, even a sleeping Guinevere. Even the things left unsaid passed between them seamlessly, he didn't need to make a fool of himself by telling her how things were, she knew, she probably had a lot more insight than him on the subject.

"I sat by and watched when your father died. I... I nearly killed you, nearly watched you burn at the stake for an act you didn't commit. If it hadn't been for you I would have done the same to Gaius." Arthur took a deep breath. The shame of those moments still haunted him. "I look back on these things as... mistakes of the worst kind. Mistakes I would make again, if it weren't for you. I don't know what I've done to earn your forgiveness, but without you to guide me I don't know if I'll ever deserve it."

Gwen groaned in her sleep, her hand clenching tightly around his. Arthur pressed a kiss against her fingers, his other hand brushing through her hair. A frown creased her pretty face, and for a moment he thought she had woken up, but she settled back against the pillows.

"I remember how you looked at him." Arthur let out a half-bitter laugh. "You made an ass out of Merlin. He had been telling me just that morning how you were sure to wait for me. I don't think he's ever forgiven you for that. I never blamed you."

He could still remember the exact sensation of his heart breaking. The way it felt like he had been punched, leaving a massive crack down the centre of his chest. The blood hardened in his veins, every heartbeat working against crystallised flesh. But it was true, he had never blamed her. He would have given anything to find someone he could love as much as her, to end their mutual suffering.

"If you have to be with him, I'll understand." His voice broke and he brought a hand to his mouth. "I won't stop loving you, but I'd rather you were happy."

Gwen moaned again, rolling onto her side. Her hand tightened again, she was surprisingly strong. Her knees pulled up near her chest and she started mumbling, words falling incomprehensibly from her lips. He leaned over to see her face, which was scrunched up, in pain or concentration. To ward off her nightmare.

"Guinevere," he murmured, shaking her shoulder.

She didn't respond to his urging, her words growing louder but no more lucid. A sob escaped her lips and he realised tears were streaming down her face. He called her name again, this time louder. She sobbed, her hands clenching, reaching for something she couldn't find. She cried out.

Gwen's body extended suddenly, causing Arthur to jump back, eyes wide with concern. He didn't know what was happening, how could he help her? She wailed, back arching unnaturally. Her fists beat against the mattress until she grasped one of the pillows to her face, muffling tormented screams.

Arthur grabbed her, trying to stop the weakened muscles that overstretched, spasmed and flailed. She would cause injury to herself.

"Arthur!" It was half a scream, half a sob, and he pressed her against his chest, binding her arms against her to stop her from hurting herself. She cried out his name again, fingers searching frantically.

"I'm here," he whispered into her ear, but it only seemed to increase her distress. Finally, he commanded, "Guinevere!"

Her body stilled in his arms. Slowly her hands unclenched and she looked around. The moment her eyes hit his he felt all the breath leave him. Her beautiful doe eyes were wide, confused, and her mouth parted with unsaid words. Her look told him everything and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, to prove that he was there and he wasn't going anywhere. Instead he let one hand weave through her hair, keeping her steady, anchoring her to him.

"Arthur," she whispered. Her stare penetrated him, took down all his defences. She held his gaze for a moment longer, then her eyes went wide, a strangled gasp escaping her. Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes. "My tonic."

He didn't ask questions and located a bottle of blue liquid on the nightstand. He pulled the stopper and helped her drink. Her breath came in choking gasps and she fell back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, silent tears streaming down the sides of her face.

"Guinevere," Arthur said, wanting to offer her some kind of comfort, not knowing what to do.

"It will work in a moment," she assured him, her words slurred as if her mouth wasn't working properly. He looked at the bruises down her jaw. They must have been very painful, he wouldn't have been surprised if the bone was cracked.

It was so like her to comfort him when she was in this much pain, making sure that he didn't worry. He sighed, stroking her hair, not wanting to move her for fear of making the pain worse with a misplaced touch.

It seemed like an aeon before Gwen's muscles loosened, her eyes closing and a dopey smile drifting across her lips.

"Guinevere? Are you alright?"

She smiled broadly, a smile of genuine joy. "I'm quite fine."

"Are you sure?" Her grin was somewhat contagious and he couldn't help the corner of his mouth pulling up. There was no reason for her to be so happy after waking up in the middle of the night to such agony.

"There is one thing I could ask for." She sat up, leaning closer as if to whisper a secret to him.

Arthur leaned closer to her. "Anything."

Guinevere leaned so close to him that their noses were almost touching and Arthur felt his heart speed up. She gently pressed her lips against his and he drew in a great breath. He responded, her lips working against his slowly becoming more feverish, her arms wrapping around his neck, her fingers finding their way into his hair.

Her lips parted, allowing their tongues to tentatively touch, tasting, testing. Arthur wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close. He had dreamed of this moment for months, he'd never imagined she would be so bold as to initiate it. The way she moaned from the back of her throat sent shocks through him, taking him higher. He let one hand lay flat against the tender flesh of her neck, his fingertips teasing behind her ear. She was so soft, so beautiful, and she was pressed up against him like her life depended on him.

Every moment he held her, it felt like his heart was healing, sensation returning to necrotic flesh. The hardened veins inside his chest softened, the breaks stitching back together. Cradling her against him, her mouth hot and giving against his, he felt like he was finally aware of how deep his wounds ran, only enlightened upon the first touches of recovery. For the first time in six months his blood was running freely.

She moaned his name into his lips and he lowered her back onto the bed, pressing kisses along her uninjured jawline. Her knee brushed against his hip and Arthur had to stop to gasp for air, realising what a compromising position they were in. Her half-lidded eyes spoke of desire, her back arching, pressing her hips up into his. He let his eyes trace her, from her wild, scattered hair, the delicate curve of her neck, her...

Arthur stopped dead. The white shift she had been wearing was stained, fresh, red blood running a line down her front. Guinevere followed his gaze and sighed.

"Oh, no," she said, the same way she might have looked on a spilt drink. "My stitches."

"What stitches?"

"For my chest," she non-explained, sitting up with a childish pout on her face. She prodded her chest experimentally.

"Gaius didn't tell me that you had injured yourself there." Arthur frowned deeply. The physician had given him an incomplete report. And Gwen couldn't feel it, she looked like she was examining the wound on another person, still tittering as she poked and prodded. "Gwen, look at me."

"Mm?" she asked, wide eyed. He suddenly felt like he was talking to a child, her attention wandering away from him unless he kept her focussed.

"What happened to your chest?"

She shook her head dismissively. "It was just the... uh... the basket. It broke on my chest and Gaius said there was a... an infection, that's it. He said I wasn't to worry or tell anyone, especially not Prince Arthur."

Arthur sighed heavily. No wonder she had thrown herself at him like that, whatever was relieving her pain had also taken away her mental capacity. And now she had forgotten about him, absolutely enthralled by her fingernails, while he was still burning for her, the warmth of her body still impressed against his own.

Dammit, if she had stitches that had broken, he'd have to get Gaius, there would be no hiding the fact that he'd disobeyed orders. Not that he didn't want to say a few words to the old man, telling everyone not to worry, that kind of infection could easily kill her.

"Gwen. Guinevere." It took her a moment to look up at him. "Are there guards outside your door?"

She frowned in concentration for a moment, then nodded happily. "Mmhmm."

Arthur spoke very slowly. "Okay, I'm going to leave now, and I want you to call the guards. Tell them that your stitches have broken. Can you do that for me?"

Gwen nodded again.

"Good, and I want you to do one more thing, and this is very important, so listen closely. Do not tell anyone I was here. Can you do that?"

Gwen saluted mockingly, grinning again. Arthur pressed his lips against her forehead, giving her one last light hug before slipping out the window. He hung from the rope, waiting until he heard her call out for the guards before sliding back down to his own window.

- -


End file.
